His Unexpected Heiress: Entangled Inheritances

by Britton, Sally

  Taking the card in hand, she thanked him, and he went on his way. The card went into her reticule, along with the others she had already collected. That reminded her of yet another thing she needed to have done.

  “Dear me. I shall need to have cards printed.”

  “I suggest sending to London for that. I know an excellent stationery and printing business. I will be happy to give you their information.” Adam gestured to the baker behind them. “Would you ladies care for something to eat while we tour the castle grounds?”

  Nancy bounced up and down on her toes. “Do they have any sweet buns?”

  Adam chuckled and winked at the girl. “I am certain they do. Give me a moment.” He straightened and went inside.

  William held his book out to Elaine. “There are more coming. I even found some books for Nancy. Mr. Herbert is going to send them to the house.”

  She read the spine of the book, her eyebrows drawing together. “Cook’s Voyages Round the World.” That seemed an apt title for a boy like William. “Did Mr. Herbert recommend it to you?”

  “He said it was one of his favorites.” William tucked it under his arm again and rocked back on his heels. “It would be something to sail all the way around the world. Sailors have to use the stars to navigate.”

  “True enough.” She nearly reached out to ruffle his hair, as she had when he was younger. But of late, her Billy had become William, and he did not approve of being treated as too young of a child.

  Adam reappeared with a packet that smelled of freshly baked bread. He nodded down the road. “The castle is that way. I will hand out our treats when we get there.”

  William and Nancy started walking ahead of them, talking to each other about their day and which deliveries they most looked forward to. They hardly looked back to be certain the adults in their company kept up.

  “We had better follow,” Adam said, tucking his packet beneath his left arm and offering her his right. “We cannot let them have all the enjoyment of a castle, can we?”

  She took his arm, making certain to barely touch him. There was no use becoming overly familiar with him.

  Watching her charges, Elaine put her mind once more on their welfare. That was the safest place for her thoughts to dwell. The children had grown far too quickly for her liking. Elaine had heard many a mother say such things about their own children. William and Nancy belonged to her, even if they had not been born of her, so it was natural for her to feel the same.

  “Here now,” Adam said at her side, requiring her to give him attention. “Why are you wearing that sorrowful expression? Miss Chapple, is this not a fine day? The children under your care are happy, you have purchased many needful things. Not to mention how pleased the shopkeepers are at this very moment.” He arched one eyebrow and tipped his head to the side.

  Endearing. That was the word for the gentleman at her side. His gentle teasing made him even more endearing. Gratitude swelled in her heart, she would not name the emotion otherwise, for all he had done for them. “I am only thinking of how old they are, how they have grown. I confess, it saddens me a little. I will not always have them with me.”

  “They will be about for a long time yet, and I doubt either will ever stray very far.” Adam considered her another moment, his eyes flickering from the top of her bonnet down to her hand on his arm. “And you are quite young, Miss Chapple. There is time yet to grow your family.”

  Elaine could laugh at that, rather than blush. “I will be seven and twenty in September. I am resigned that there will be no courtship in my future.”

  Adam adjusted his arm, bringing it—and her—a little closer to his side. “You are an heiress now, Miss Chapple. When word of your good fortune spreads, and the gentlemen in the area gain their introductions, you may have more offers than you can count.”

  “Yes, there will be a queue of gentleman from the front door all the way down the lane.” She shook her head at her own satire. “If anything, being an heiress makes me less likely to wed. How would I know if a man wanted me or the estate? There is also the matter of the children. That is what prevented any attachment in the past.”

  The children paused at the corner of the road and turned for directions. Adam gestured with his head, nodding left. William took Nancy’s hand and ran across with her.

  “There were objections?” Adam asked, sounding somewhat affronted. “That you cared for two children? One would think a gentleman would see that as evidence of your best qualities.”

  “Mr. Gillensford.” She spoke his name gently. Either he truly did not know, or he meant to flatter her. “I was a seamstress. I rarely came in contact with gentlemen, and the tradesmen about me had no wish to take in extra mouths to feed.”

  His expression darkened in understanding and he turned his attention ahead again. “But there were offers.”

  “A few,” she admitted. Yet those few did little for her pride. When her father died, one of his competitors proposed. He was older by a dozen years, widowed, and wanted her skills with a needle. There were two men in Ipswich with similar proposals, and one kind farmer who would not take on the children unless they were treated as hired help.

  They followed the path to the edge of a large house and, once clear of its shadow, the castle appeared. The single tower stretched upward, the old gray stones conjuring images of knights in armor. Around the castle were large embankments, and the last gravelly bits of old walls.

  Adam called the children back when they started forward at a rush. “Come, take your bread first.” They ran back, most impatiently. Elaine removed her hand from Adam’s arm, and he tugged off a glove before reaching in. “I am assured that these have been glazed with honey.” He handed a large roll to Nancy, another to William. “There. Now on with you, but do not lose sight of us.”

  He brought out a roll studded with seeds for Elaine. She accepted it and they resumed their walk, this time not touching.

  If he could ask impertinent questions, perhaps she might as well. “How is it, Mr. Gillensford, that you are adept at managing children?”

  “Me? Adept?” He scoffed and wadded up the now empty brown paper packet. “I know absolutely nothing about the creatures, except what I remember from being that age.”

  “How intriguing.” She took a bite of the savory roll, then tipped her head back the better to view the castle. “And I do not quite believe you.”

  “Children are far more manageable than adults, and they are generally more friendly.” Adam shrugged with his response. “My uncle never had children of his own, yet he always seemed to know how to address me when I was a boy. I think the secret is likely the same as it is with any person. Show interest, respect, and compassion.”

  “And buy them cricket bats and doll houses.”

  He chuckled. “My younger sister, Phillipa, adored her doll house. That was all the inspiration I needed there. Otherwise, what have I done for these children that I could not do for someone older?”

  “There is a great deal of reason in your argument.” She watched William dart up a hill. At the top he turned and waved, so she waved back. “I am worried for them.”

  “It is a small hill,” Adam noted, unconcerned. “They will be perfectly safe.”

  “Not because of the hill.” She kept walking on a well-worn path around the outside of the castle, noting places where the stone appeared to be missing. It certainly was not in habitable shape. “I met a woman at the draper’s. She is coming to visit next week, with a daughter near Nancy’s age. What will she do when she realizes Nancy has no family or connections? What will anyone do when they learn I have none, either?”

  Adam tucked his hands behind his back and lowered his head. “There will be those who consider themselves above you.”

  His confirmation did nothing to rattle her, but it made the stone in her belly feel somewhat heavier. “Most would, I think. I already find it difficult to understand why you are associating with me.”

  His expression tightene
d. “Your importance to the community, due to your holdings, will bring them around in time. My great-aunt was the daughter of a tradesman, and everyone loved her. The whole neighborhood mourned her passing.”

  Elaine brushed her hands together to rid herself of the crumbs from her roll. “I hope you are right. But if things do not go as you say they will, at least the children will have what they need for their future. Education for both, a dowry for Nancy.” She watched as Nancy sat in the grass with her doll, admiring the castle. “That is all that really matters.”

  She continued her walk, making her way up the hill to the children. Her children. Mr. Gillensford remained behind.

  Chapter 8

  If the Earl of Montecliff had already decided against Miss Chapple, who in the neighborhood would befriend her? The problem lingered in Adam’s thoughts through the next day. He spent some time in the family gallery, pacing back and forth before his ancestors, while it rained in a most dismal manner.

  At least the children had a nursery full of toys, and a few books, to while away their hours. Not that he should particularly care, but the memory of Nancy’s complete devotion to her new doll gave him reason enough to smile.

  Miss Chapple needed more help than he could give her without being too forward. She needed someone of respectable standing to befriend her. At the moment, he could think of no one meeting those qualifications. If only some grand lady were in the neighborhood to take notice of the newly made gentlewoman.

  Adam stalked to the windows and sat on one of the benches before them. He never understood the benches. Did whoever furnish the gallery truly think people would wish to sit and gaze up at the dusty old portraits of unsmiling ancestors? He avoided their stares whenever he could. It was the length of the hall he came for.

  The rain spattered against the window, blown by the wind. The storm appeared to be picking up rather than settling down. Pity. He had not precisely intended to visit Tertium Park, but having the ability removed from him irritated him.

  “Mr. Gillensford?” a voice called from the far end of the gallery.

  Adam stood and adjusted his coat. “Here I am, Rigby.”

  The butler came striding down the hall, a silver tray in hand. “A letter for you, sir.”

  The afternoon post. He accepted the sealed missive and recognized Phillipa’s hand at once. He broke the wax seal and started reading, barely noticing the butler’s withdrawal. The first few lines of the letter made him chuckle. Phillipa had turned away a suitor and angered their mother. Phillipa, sweet as she was, would never bend when it came to that aspect of her future.

  The result of his mother’s frustrations, detailed in the next paragraph, did away with his amusement completely. As punishment to Phillipa, and everyone else in Suffolk county, his mother intended to retire to the country early.

  Philippa did not say precisely when, either. Only that they would not stay through the end of the season.

  Mother hopes you will have made yourself indispensable to the seamstress by this point. Be prepared to give a full report on the matter.

  His family still knew nothing of Miss Chapple’s age, or about the children. He had not had nearly enough time to earn Miss Chapple’s full trust.

  Oh, she liked him well enough, but she struck him as an intelligent woman, capable of making her own way in the world. She had taken on raising two children while plying her trade. A friend or two would be enough to help her into her new level of society given her confidence and strength of mind.

  Adam crumpled the letter in his hand and dropped back to his seat. He scrubbed his other hand through his hair, a black mood descending on him.

  Richard’s working against Miss Chapple, the dowager’s determination for Adam to ingratiate himself into the seamstress’s life, left a sour taste in his mouth. Yet how else did he gain his inheritance? If his funds became limited to the allowance his father left, Adam had next to nothing to live on unless he plied himself to a trade.

  Miss Chapple had been in trade.

  For perhaps the first time in her life, the woman could experience true leisure. Yet he knew that she was most likely, even at that moment, putting her mind and hands to work on something. His chest warmed at the remembrance of her playing the pianoforte with one hand, eyes closed, in the sunlight.

  He leaned back against the window and the cool glass against the back of his head made him shudder. Much like the thought of his mother addressing Miss Chapple in person. There was no other choice for Adam: he must warn Miss Chapple that her greatest challenge in the neighborhood would be his family.

  And he would do it in the morning. Raining or not.

  * * *

  No rain fell when Adam started out to see Miss Chapple, though the sky was heavily overcast. Most likely, he would give her the warning about his family, and she would throw him out of the house. That would be when the rain started.

  Morose thoughts did not usually accompany him on morning rides. Nothing gave Adam more pleasure than taking his exercise with a fine horse. Even if it was a borrowed mount from his brother’s stables. The allowance Adam had been left when his father died did not amount to enough to maintain a horse, much less his own household. Used to the finer things in life, Adam had cursed his father’s need to control everything, even in death. Then he had turned his hopes to Uncle Gillensford’s estate.

  A second time, he lost what he had thought his by right of birth. Really, he ought to have known better. Peter Gillensford had worked for what he possessed. Likely he wanted Adam to do the same.

  When Adam came through the trees, sighting the long green expanse of grass between him and Tertium Park, he slowed his horse to a stop. The house was glorious, really. Every time he came upon it, his memories flooded with his childhood exploits. How often had he sneaked across fields and through hedges to visit his great-uncle’s home?

  His uncle had always acted happy to see Adam, and Aunt Mary never failed to wrap him in a tight embrace before offering him biscuits and milk. They had already been older, nearly his grandfather’s age, when Adam started his clandestine visits. They never turned him away, either.

  A pang of regret smote Adam’s heart, and he nudged his horse into a canter to outrun the discomfort of that feeling. When Aunt Mary died, Adam’s visits had slowly dwindled to nothing.

  Leaving his uncle alone after that loss had surely been a factor in losing the estate to Miss Chapple. The house had been gloomy, his great-uncle sad, and Adam had given in to his own selfishness.

  He tied his horse to a post at the front of the house, then went inside. The substance of his thoughts and the warning he must deliver made his movements slower, ponderous. It would be best if he told Miss Chapple everything about his family, but he planned to keep back his reasons for helping her in the first place. If she really did throw him out, he would never see a penny of his uncle’s investments.

  Graham gave him a narrow-eyed look but informed Adam he could find Miss Chapple in the blue parlor. There was no mistaking the butler’s protectiveness of his mistress. In a matter of days, with uncle’s will testifying of his approval of Miss Chapple, the entire household had given her their devotion.

  Adam smiled to himself, and some warmth returned. She had already won his loyalty, too. Strange, when he had been so determined to see her as the enemy before. The usurper, as terrible as old Prince John. The reality might put him in that position, using her as he did, in order to gain his last chance at a life of comfort.

  That calculating thought left him chilled once more.

  He knocked on the door of the blue parlor, and Miss Chapple’s lovely soprano voice invited him in. He made it three steps into the room before he paused, staring at the scene in some confusion. Bolts of cloth were stacked on the couch, another woman he had never laid eyes upon was slicing through material with sheers, Nancy was using a bit of chalk to trace on cloth spread over the room’s only table, and Miss Chapple had shimmering beads draped around her neck and trailing nearly to t
he floor.

  “Oh, good morning, Mr. Gillensford.” She smiled brightly at him and came forward, stepping around a basket that appeared to be bursting with lace. “Do you know Mrs. Fowler? She is the local seamstress. I am sorry for the untidy room, but we had an idea—”

  “Begging your pardon, Mr. Gillensford,” the seamstress said, pushing herself up from where she had been working. “I told Miss Chapple it would be best for me to take everything back to my shop.” She looked worried, as if he had any authority over what happened in the household.

  “I suppose Miss Chapple would know best,” he said, somewhat weakly. “What is all this?”

  “Dresses for Nancy.” Miss Chapple took the last step to his side, skirting a chair that had been moved for the operation. “She needs at least one by Tuesday. For Mrs. Bartleby’s visit with her daughter.”

  He nodded, though the explanation made little sense. About as much sense as the dress Miss Chapple wore. The deep blue wool gown, with sleeves to her wrists and a neckline high enough for a nun, made her look the part of a maid. The glittering beads about her person made the entire picture incongruent. Yet he stood there, foolishly and completely charmed by her unconcerned air.

  “Did you have something particular you wished to speak to me about?” she asked, raising those cool gray eyes up to his. A handful of freckles on each cheek distracted him somewhat. Had those appeared after their shopping expedition? She had sat facing the sun for some time that afternoon, gazing up at the castle.

  Her eyebrows lowered. “Mr. Gillensford? Are you well?”

  Adam tore his eyes away from hers and nodded. “Yes. Perfectly. Though I wonder if I might have a word with you out in the hall?”

  She undraped the beads and put them on Nancy’s table. “Of course.” Then she preceded him out the door. Adam followed, wondering what had come over him that he stared so foolishly at her.